


sleep cycle

by xinteng



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Roommates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a brief mention of Interstellar because it's one of my favorite movies and cause I can, have fun with all the cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-09-27 17:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20411641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xinteng/pseuds/xinteng
Summary: Jongdae just wants Yixing to get 8 hours of sleep. He didn’t expect for it to escalate like this.





	1. stage one

**Author's Note:**

> this work was written for the xingdae fic fest (round 1) organized by xingdae café! my prompt was #19062.
> 
> also, happy birthday kim jongdae,,, i love you a lot
> 
> thank you so much to both mod k and the prompter, i really hope you enjoy :)

Jongdae considers himself a good friend.

So when Jongdae opens his apartment door to find Yixing half slumped over in the hall with dark circles that look permanently etched under his eyes at two in the morning, he quickly ushers him in without question, hands him some shorts and an old shirt he digs out from the back of his closet, and pushes him in the direction of his own bed.

It’s been awhile since Jongdae has seen Yixing—he’s Baekhyun’s boyfriend, and though the three of them hang out often, Yixing has been busy practicing and putting in late hours at the dance studio after classes in order to prepare for his solo recital months in advance, meaning Jongdae hasn’t seen Yixing past the quick glimpses of him rushing through his and Baekhyun’s apartment on his way back to another undoubtedly long night at the studio. 

So perhaps it’s a little odd now, that Yixing chooses to show up at his doorstep with nothing in hand and no explanation. Questions bubble up in the back of his throat but he saves them for morning, noting that the older boy has already spread himself across Jongdae’s bed comfortably and fallen asleep.

Jongdae sighs.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand where he left it, he shoots a quick text to Baekhyun to let him know that Yixing had crashed at his place for the night. He walks back to the living room, tries to make himself as comfortable as possible on the old, lumpy couch that he and Chanyeol had picked up from some yard sale when they first moved in, and resigns himself to a night of tossing and turning.

❈

He wakes up to the sound of clattering in the kitchen. Sitting up and stretching, Jongdae wonders why Chanyeol is up so early on a Saturday (he typically never wakes up before noon) before he remembers that Yixing had slept in his bed last night. Yixing’s still puttering around in the kitchen when Jongdae comes back after washing his face and brushing his teeth. “Good morning,” Jongdae says, watching Yixing’s movements carefully.

He looks up and smiles softly at Jongdae, hair still unruly from sleep, the imprint of Jongdae’s pillowcase on his cheek. If there’s anything wrong, Yixing is doing a good job of hiding it.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he gestures vaguely around the kitchen, “I was just making something quick. As a thank you, since you let me sleep over last night.”

Jongdae nods at him, still confused by Yixing’s odd behavior.

_Why are you here? _he wants to ask. “I wasn’t expecting you,” he chooses to say instead.

Yixing runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends in an effort to straighten them, looking slightly sheepish. “Yeah, practice ran late, and then I think I lost my keys somewhere, and Baekhyun wasn’t answering my texts—”

Jongdae laughs, effectively cutting him off. “You don’t have to say anymore,” he holds out a hand to stop him. “I totally understand.”

It was, indeed, enough information for Jongdae to imagine what must have happened—Yixing losing his belongings was pretty much a given, though the fact that Baekhyun hadn’t responded to his texts was surprising, considering he was constantly glued to his phone and acted like a minute away from it would physically hurt him. Still, Jongdae knew Baekhyun liked to go out and get dinner with some of his old high school friends or his parents on the days Yixing’s dance practices ran late, so it wasn’t surprising, really, that Baekhyun hadn’t replied.

Yixing laughs too. “I would have texted, but I was so tired by the time I got back from practice it just slipped my mind and by the time I realized I was already at your door.”

Jongdae waves him off. “Really, I don’t mind. You should sleep more though, Yixing, you’ve been working so hard recently. It gave me a shock, honestly, when I saw you last night because I haven’t seen you in so long.”

The other boy shrugs casually, brushing off Jongdae’s concern. “It’s nothing, Jongdae. Don’t worry about me so much.”

Jongdae gives him another look but drops it.

“Here,” Yixing passes him a plate of toast and scrambled eggs, “I hope it’s alright.” He turns and pulls a fork out of the drawer, and Jongdae briefly marvels at how familiar Yixing is with his kitchen.

“Better than anything I would have made,” Jongdae says truthfully, “I don’t usually eat breakfast before class—I don’t wake up early enough for it.”

Yixing frowns slightly at him. “But breakfast is the—”

“—most important part of the day,” Jongdae finishes, rolling his eyes as he does so. He waves his fork at Yixing. “Really, Xing, using such a trite line? Rather beneath you, I think.”

Yixing throws a piece of scrambled egg at him in retaliation.

Jongdae picks up a raw egg from the carton Yixing had left out and flings it back, cackling.

❈

Baekhyun drops by his apartment, later. 

“Is Yixing here?” he asks, face flushed and eyes frantic, clinging to the doorway of Jongdae’s apartment like he would collapse to the floor if he wasn’t.

Jongdae eyes him in confusion. “No, he left for practice already,” he replies, grasping at Baekhyun’s hand and pulling him into the apartment so he can shut the door.

Privately, Jongdae thinks it’s odd that he would ask such a question—he’s Yixing’s boyfriend after all, so shouldn’t he know that he has practice scheduled at this time already?

He pushes the thought out of his mind.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, instead.

“We got into a fight.”

Jongdae lets out a breath. “Oh.”

Suddenly a lot of things make sense—the way Yixing’s smile had tightened around the corners when he said Baekhyun’s name this morning, the casual lie about missing his keys, Baekhyun not responding to his texts. A half-truth.

“It was so stupid,” Baekhyun sniffs, fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve. “I made a stupid comment—something about him spending more time with his dance partners than with me because I was jealous. And it was _so dumb_ because I know how hard he’s been working, and I know how desperately he wants everything to go perfectly and still. I made him feel bad about it.”

Something in Jongdae’s chest tightens at the words, and he doesn’t quite understand why. He goes to sit down on the couch, Baekhyun following automatically and settling his head naturally onto Jongdae’s lap.

“It’s just hard, you know?” and here Baekhyun looks up at Jongdae, eyes still tinged pink, and really, he does look quite pitiful. “It’s like I’m living with a ghost—like I’m _dating_ a ghost. I barely see him anymore, and when I do, he’s so tired that he just goes to sleep, and by the time I wake up in the morning, he’s gone already.”

“I know,” Jongdae says, and feels helpless because this is a problem that only Baekhyun and Yixing can solve. “But you have to trust him, Baekhyun. You know Yixing. You know how dedicated he is to you. He loves you, so, so much.” He cards his fingers gently through Baekhyun’s hair, hoping to reassure him through touch because Baekhyun is perhaps the clingiest person alive and he thrives on human contact.

Baekhyun lets out a deep sigh. “I know. And I really am sorry. I feel awful about the whole thing. I haven’t been the greatest boyfriend recently either.”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Jongdae prompts softly. He understands how Baekhyun feels, though it’s not Yixing’s fault in the slightest—neither of their faults, really—no matter what the situation is, it’s always painful to feel as though you are the one being left behind.


	2. stage two

Weeks pass, and the strain on Baekhyun and Yixing’s relationship grows. Jongdae finds himself awkwardly caught in the middle, both Baekhyun and Yixing coming separately to him to seek comfort and advice in dealing with the other. “Just talk to him,” is a phrase that Jongdae frankly, never wants to say again.

It’s sad, almost, to watch.

Jongdae had been there at the very start of their relationship, back in freshman year when he and Baekhyun had been roommates and he had bounded back from class one day, gushing about the cute new transfer student from China. “He has dimples, Jongdae!” he remembers Baekhyun saying vividly, eyes shining as Jongdae laughed at his best friend and pointed out how easily he crushed on others.

“No, he’s different,” Baekhyun had said firmly. “I’m going to ask him out.”

Somehow, Yixing had agreed, and the rest, as Jongdae liked to say, was history.

And now, it was the end.

A knock echoes through the apartment—Jongdae takes a quick look at the clock and feels a strange sense of déjà vu when he realizes that it’s two in the morning. Closing the lid of his laptop where he had been attempting—failing, really, who was he kidding—to write his paper, he walks over to the door and peers through the peephole.

He is unsurprised to find Yixing on the other end, dark hair softly covering his eyes and hands twisting the strap of his blue duffel bag nervously. He opens the door.

Yixing looks up. “Hi,” he greets softly. His voice sounds strained, like he’s been crying, or yelling, or maybe both, and his eyes are swollen, his bottom lip flushed pink like he’s been chewing on it.

Perhaps Jongdae stares too long, because Yixing, who had at first seemed hopeful, albeit hesitant, takes a step back. “Sorry,” he apologizes, because it’s _Yixing_, and he’s always been endlessly polite, never wanting to impose. “I should’ve called ahead first. I can go.”

“No,” Jongdae bursts out too loudly, and internally, he winces. He’s going to receive some strongly worded notes from his neighbors tomorrow—it wouldn’t be the first time. “I was just,” he pauses, gathers his words, “surprised. To see you, I mean.”

He isn’t really, though.

Yixing nods. “We broke up,” he says, so quietly that Jongdae has to strain to hear it. “Me and Baekhyun,” he clarifies unnecessarily. “It’s over.”

Jongdae pulls Yixing in for a hug, gathers him close and rubs a hand soothingly up and down his back. “I’m sorry,” he mutters into Yixing’s shirt, which smells like sweat and soap and the faintest trace of mint. Yixing nestles in closer to Jongdae’s embrace, chin drooping down to rest against the top of his head.

“Me too,” he whispers back, a broken confession in the silence.

Jongdae clings to him tighter.

❈

They start spending more time together. Chanyeol had generously offered to switch living places with Yixing, as neither Baekhyun nor Yixing seemed particularly inclined to continue living together, and so one weekend Jongdae and Yixing had spent all morning helping Chanyeol to pack up his clothes and belongings into several large boxes so he could move them over to Baekhyun’s apartment.

“I’m really sorry,” Yixing apologizes again, for what seems like the hundredth time that morning. “This is all my fault. You really don’t have to do this, I can find somewhere else to live,” he gestures, his hands fluttering around nervously.

Chanyeol just grins at him. “Don’t worry about it, Xing. Your room is bigger than mine anyways, so really, it’s only a benefit for me.”

Yixing accepts his explanation with a slow nod, but still looks dreadfully hesitant. “Honestly Yixing,” Jongdae comes over and slings his arm around him, leaning his head against Yixing’s shoulder. “Chanyeol was a bad roommate anyways. I’m glad he’s leaving.”

Chanyeol tackles him into the couch, Yixing moving away at the last second in alarm. “Say that again,” he says, tickling him in all the areas he knows Jongdae is sensitive to.

“You’re—a bad—a—a bad roommate,” he manages to wheeze out, breathless. “Get off, you’re so heavy!”

Chanyeol mock gasps. “Now you’re calling me fat! Adding insult to injury, Jongdae—”

It’s several minutes before Chanyeol finally deems his attack on Jongdae satisfactory and releases him. Out of breath, shirt askew and skin flushed, Jongdae stands disgruntled with a frown on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yixing giggling, dimples pressed deeply into his cheeks.

He feels a strange rush of warmth in his stomach.

He ignores it.

❈

Having Yixing as his new roommate is somehow relaxing and stressful at the same time. Jongdae finds it adorable when Yixing stumbles into the kitchen in the morning—bedhead apparent and eyes not entirely open yet—mumbling about food, but he lies awake at night (or sometimes in the early morning), unable to sleep because he’s waiting for the front door to open so he knows Yixing is home.

Frankly, it’s pointless for him to stay up, because it’s not like Jongdae comes out of his room to talk to him or even say hi to Yixing when he comes back, but it’s like his body refuses to rest unless it knows that Yixing is safe in bed next door, sleeping. The lack of rest begins to take a toll on his own body, the bags under his eyes more prominent, and it isn’t long before his friends begin to notice.

“You look like shit,” Minseok says, in lieu of a greeting when they meet up at a café to study for their next midterm together.

Jongdae groans, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. “I know, I do look in the mirror sometimes, you know.”

Minseok just grins, sliding an iced Americano across the table towards him. “Here, I ordered for you already.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jongdae mumbles around the straw of the drink, having grabbed it away as soon as it had been within reaching distance.

“Want to tell me why you haven’t been sleeping much?” and really, it’s far too early for Minseok to be waggling his eyebrows like that.

Jongdae would throw his drink at Minseok if he didn’t need the caffeine so desperately.

He shrugs, instead. “No reason.”

Minseok hums, disbelieving. “Okay.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

A pause.

A sigh. “Just spit it out, Minseok.”

“Is it because of Yixing?”

Jongdae chokes on his drink, coughing and spluttering. Minseok waits patiently for him to finish hacking up a lung before continuing, that _damned_ eyebrow still raised knowingly.

“What—no, what made you think that?”

“I think I’ll let you figure that one out on your own,” is all Minseok says, cryptically, before opening up his notes and turning his attention away from Jongdae, who is still indignantly red in the face.

And when even a loud shout of his full name won’t get Minseok to budge, Jongdae is left to huff and slouch down into his seat, pick up his own work, and wonder what, exactly, Minseok means.


	3. stage three

He doesn’t understand until months later when he and Yixing are comfortably settled into what has become a tradition—Friday night movies, with countless snacks spread out between them and a hoard of blankets and pillows in case one of them falls asleep halfway through. 

They’re watching Interstellar—Yixing has seen it before, but when Jongdae had said he’d never seen it, Yixing had insisted on watching it again with him. It’s the scene where Cooper travels through a black hole, willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of the human race and realizing that Brand was right, that love transcends time and space, when Yixing asks suddenly, “Do you think that’s true?”

There’s something soft, maybe a little wistful in his eyes when he looks at Jongdae.

_It’s a movie_, is what Jongdae wants to say, but doesn’t.

“I want to believe so,” he allows.

Yixing considers him for a moment, mulling over his response before saying firmly, “I think it is.” Somethings pangs in his chest, and all of a sudden, Jongdae realizes that they are no longer talking about the movie. _Oh_, he thinks.

Oh_._

❈

Jongdae huffs, trying to decide between chocolate puff cereal and corn flakes. The chocolate cereal tastes infinitely better, but the corn flakes are much healthier, and Jongdae is struggling between his conscience and his cravings. He decides to ask Yixing instead, even though he knows Yixing will probably end up choosing the corn flakes because he, unlike himself, has self-discipline.

Picking up a box of each carefully, he sets off in search of his roommate, snagging a bag of green grapes on sale as he passes by. He’s still contemplating the cereals in his hands when he hears Yixing’s voice up ahead.

He looks up, and freezes.

Yixing is standing with his back to him, frame covering the body of the person he’s talking to, but Jongdae would know the other person’s voice anywhere, has it ingrained in his memory.

Baekhyun.

He hurriedly ducks into another aisle, peeking out slightly so he can still keep them in view. He doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but he can’t deny that part of him is curious, and he reasons to himself that he is just on standby, in case something goes awfully wrong.

From this angle, he can see Baekhyun perfectly well—Yixing’s face is obscured by a bright orange sign advertising “59 cent lemons!”

He shakes his head and focuses.

“So uh, how is dance practice going?” he hears Baekhyun say and Jongdae winces. Of all things to talk about.

Yixing shrugs, Jongdae catching the little up and down motion of his shoulders behind the sign. “Still practicing,” he laughs, but there’s a tinge of self-deprecation in his voice.

Baekhyun offers him a small smile. “Yeah,” he replies, and it’s quiet for a moment after that, both of them clearly not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry—”

“Let’s—"

Both of them speak at the same time. Baekhyun frantically gestures for Yixing to go first. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and Jongdae doesn’t know why Yixing apologizing to Baekhyun makes his chest ache.

Baekhyun mumbles something back that he doesn’t catch.

“I miss—” Jongdae hears Yixing say, as he turns around hastily.

He doesn’t want to stay for this any longer—doesn’t think that his heart can quite handle it.

He walks away, still holding the two boxes of cereal in his hand, forgotten.

❈

The next few days are awkward. He’s not actively trying to avoid Yixing, but he finds that he can’t quite look him in the eye anymore without being reminded of the conversation he had accidentally overheard between him and his best friend.

So he takes to dashing out of the house in the morning, leaving little handwritten notes jotted down hastily on post-its stuck to the fridge for Yixing, rather than speaking to him face to face. _It’s better this way,_ he reasons. Besides, Yixing’s so busy that it’s really not much effort on Jongdae’s part to avoid seeing him.

In fact, Jongdae’s almost convinced that Yixing hasn’t noticed any difference at all. Or if he has, he hasn’t really said anything about it.

Still though, he can’t stop himself from waiting for Yixing to come home at night.


	4. REM

He’s counting down the number of stops before he has to get off the bus when he gets the phone call. He has half a mind not to pick up—he doesn’t want to be _that_ asshole that talks on their phone while on public transportation—but when he glances down at his phone and sees the silly picture he had set for Yixing a few months ago pop up, he frowns and gently slides his thumb across the screen to accept the call.

Yixing rarely calls Jongdae, typically preferring to text, so the fact that he’s calling now means it’s something important, and despite Jongdae’s avoidance tactics, he’s not going to ignore Yixing’s call on purpose.

Jongdae’s a good friend, after all.

“Hello?” he asks, cupping his ear with the hand not holding the phone in a vain effort to block out some of the surrounding noise.

“Hi, yes, are you Yixing’s roommate?” a voice that’s decidedly _not_ Yixing’s asks.

“Yes,” he replies, confused.

“I’m Jongin, I’m one of Yixing’s dance partners,” the other boy explains. “Yixing got hurt at practice today, I took him to the hospital by school—"

His vision blurs, momentarily, the pounding of his heart insistent beneath his chest. The palms of his hands are sweaty. When he shakes his head and focuses back on the voice still talking through the phone, he catches the end part of whatever the other boy is saying. “—come pick him up, if that’s okay.”

He nods, before remembering that doesn’t transfer through a phone call.

“Yeah, of course. Tell Yixing I’ll be there soon,” he says quickly.

The other boy agrees amicably, before ending the call. 

Worry leaves a bone-deep ache in Jongdae’s body, and the way he can’t stop jiggling his foot up and down makes the grandma sitting next to him glare at him, but he doesn’t care. All he can imagine is Yixing falling, expression twisted up into a grimace of pain, being carried and shuffled into a car before being quickly ushered to the nearest hospital.

All he can think about is Yixing.

❈

The sunlight is streaming into the room, courtesy of the pulled back curtains when Jongdae walks in. It’s late afternoon, so the sun isn’t nearly as bright as it was a few hours earlier, but it still makes him wince as his eyes readjust to the light. When they finally refocus, he finds Yixing staring back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He doesn’t look nearly as bad as Jongdae’s admittedly overactive imagination had pictured, though he certainly does have a pale, weak pallor to his skin, and an IV drip attached to his arm, several bandages covering the areas where Jongdae is sure doctors must have given him some sort of injection. Morphine, probably.

“Hi,” he says, lamely.

Now that he’s here, he’s not entirely sure what to do.

Yixing tries to prop himself up higher on his bed but can’t hide the wince of pain that twists his previous smile into something ugly. Jongdae rushes over the last few steps to help, grabbing the extra pillow thrown carelessly onto the couch by the side of the room and tucking it behind Yixing’s back, gently maneuvering him to lean on it.

He spends a little too long smoothing out the creases in Yixing’s hospital gown. In it, Yixing looks smaller, drowned by yards of plain fabric that hide the lean figure of the dancer.

Jongdae smells sweat, soap, and the faintest trace of mint.

He quells the wave of affection that burns in the back of his throat.

“What happened?” he asks, instead.

Yixing shrugs slightly, the movement pulling the blanket off his shoulders and slipping to pool around his waist, which Jongdae now notices has bandages wrapped across it.

“My old waist injury flared up again,” his words are entirely too casual, and Jongdae doesn’t believe him. “It’s nothing major.”

Jongdae glares at him. “If it was nothing major, Jongin wouldn’t have brought you to the hospital. What were you thinking anyways, pushing yourself so hard? You need to _rest_ sometimes Yixing, you’re not a god.”

The dancer merely looks back at him evenly, lips curved slightly upwards. “Worried?” he teases, his trademark dimple revealing itself.

He flushes and scowls at the other boy. “If you weren’t injured already, I’d hit you over the head for that.”

“You know you love me,” the words are said lightly, but Jongdae freezes.

He takes a step back. _Yixing hadn’t meant anything by it,_ he convinces himself. _He doesn’t—can’t know. He’s in love with Baekhyun. _

When the silence stretches too long, Jongdae still floundering for an appropriate response, Yixing tilts his head curiously back at him.

“I’ll call Baekhyun for you,” is what he finally utters, already fumbling for the phone tucked in the back pocket of his jeans.

He’s already dialing him when Yixing reaches out and plucks the device away from Jongdae’s hands. Deliberately, he ends the call before it goes through.

“I don’t need Baekhyun,” he says. “I have you.”

“But—”

“Jongdae,” and this time, Yixing’s voice is tinged with faint amusement. “I like you. Fuck, honestly, I’m probably in love with you.”

It’s like something clicks into place at the words, the blood rushing through his veins singing in joy. He’s grinning so wide that he probably looks like a deranged lunatic, but in this moment he can’t bring himself to care because _Yixing loves him_.

In lieu of an answer, Jongdae bends down to brush his fingers through Yixing’s hair softly, then skims his lips across his forehead, down his nose, and finally meeting his mouth.

The kiss is easy, sweet, a tender press of warmth between the two of them, and it leaves Jongdae aching with fondness. He smiles into the kiss, then pulls away just enough so he can look into Yixing’s eyes as they flutter open.

Softly, like a secret, he murmurs, “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not entirely convinced that the sleep cycle metaphor i set up was exactly right but. oh well. it's past me now lol. this fic was also supposed to have way more pining and way less fluff but i guess i was feeling soft and decided to just put jongdae out of his misery haha
> 
> also in case it wasn't clear, the conversation between baekhyun and yixing in the grocery store was more about closure between the two of them- jongdae just didn't stick around long enough to hear the entire thing and jumped to conclusions 
> 
> this fic ran away from me and that is all
> 
> i hope you liked it! please leave me a comment if you did :) and thank you for reading!
> 
> come talk to me:
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/staryxz)   
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